


Four Million Years

by andstarswillscream



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 06:54:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7880869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andstarswillscream/pseuds/andstarswillscream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More was left unsaid than what would ever be spoken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Million Years

**Author's Note:**

> im blaming @yokowiki & @prowlstiddies on twitter for this

"Lord Megatron, are you the same as I remember? Keeping contact between us has been…. difficult. I’m sure you know."

 _I hope you know_ , catching in his vocalizer. He reset it, electing to ignore that phrase anyways. It was unprofessional, he supposed, during wartime. The leader of the Cybertronian Guard cast his glance towards the feed for the energon storage. The Autobots had been slowly starving them, blocking off all paths to the energon mines with only their best soldiers, tearing through what little Decepticons were left on Cybertron with unsettling ease. Shockwave often skipped his own rations to allow another, usually another Guard, to fuel himself. They needed their strength more than he, who rarely entered the fray unless there was a dire situation.

That situation seemed to be approaching much faster than originally supposed, he observed, noticing the meagre amounts of energon left, barely enough for the next few cycles.

"We need energon, My Lord. If you are out there, if you can hear me... We desperately need your assistance."

It had been ages since they had last been in contact. Shockwave remained loyal, standing firm by the belief that their leader was not offline, that their struggles would not amount to nothing. Others, however, were not so sure, and the worries had begun to worm their way into him, burrowing deep and gripping hard. When his mechs would come back in worse shape than they'd went out, with sullen faces and fearful glances towards the entrance of the base, as if they were afraid they'd been followed, he'd frantically call Megatron, with shaking hands and a wavering voice, near-pleading for a response, anything, fear gripping him, as well. They were in no shape for the Autobots to come knocking at their gates. 

They'd lost well over half of who Megatron had stationed with him, and while they themselves had put a sizeable chunk in the Autobot's army, the Autobots were not slowly starving. Not like they were, all sharp fangs and hunger pains, ferociously protective over the few resources they were each allotted.

"I hope you are safe."

_I hope you've been trying to keep in touch with us. I need you here._


End file.
